Safe And Sound
by Pachamama9
Summary: While on a mission, Kingsley Shacklebolt rescues a boy and takes him into his home.
1. Just Close Your Eyes

_A/N: This fic is set before the War, when Kingsley and Tonks are working as Aurors. This is kinda a kid!fic where Kingsley takes a kid into his home after rescuing him._

 _Disclaimer: No, I'm not JK Rowling._

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"Open the door or we will break it down!" Kingsley and his team of Aurors crowded outside of the door, hoping for a quick surrender from the criminals. They were infamous for kidnapping Metamorphagi and experimenting on them and training them for their own purposes. They called themselves 'The Rescuers' for some ironic reason. Kingsley had been tracking them for about a month until a nine-year-old victim of capture had escaped and told the Ministry of their hideout. It was located in a countryside in France

Kingsley motioned with a nod of his head, and Auror Tonks, her hair a new shade of lilac, blasted the door down with a flick of her wand and a shout: "Reducto!" Even though she was personally involved in the case, Kingsley had managed to convince the Ministry of Magic to allow her on this case. She was one of his best. They stepped over the ashes of the door, Kingsley and Tonks first.

There were supposed to be five Rescuers. Three of them Kingsley saw almost immediately, their wands raised to shout as one, "Avada Kedavra!" The green curses smashed into nothingness as all seven of his Aurors Apparated on the spot. They knew better than to stay in one spot during a battle. Kingsley took on a green-eyed, pale man who laughed through the entire battle. He quickly defeated him, being the most renowned Auror of his time. He moved onto face an aggressive fighter, a woman he knew to be named Paxton from the files. Wearing pink robes, she nearly knocked him off his feet with a sudden Blasting Curse, but Kingsley quickly retaliated with a few Body-Binding Curse and a quick, nonverbal Stunning Spell.

Once all three Rescuers had been subdued, Kingsley recognized that a few of his Aurors had already started to look for the children. He put an Anti-Apparition Charm on the house so that the others could not escape, and wards in every room. Kingsley crept into what looked to be the kitchen, following the other Aurors. Tonks continued to lead the pack. At first, they found nothing but bare rooms with no furniture, but Tonks cleverly located a huge Undetectable Extension Charm used on a trunk under a bed stripped of its sheets. She growled, "Accio trunk," and it slid into the center of the room. "I'll go first," she told them.

Kingsley grabbed her arm before she could step inside. "Tonks," he said.

She bristled. "Don't coddle me, Shacklebolt. I can do this."

"I know," he replied, still holding onto her. "It's just I know how hard this must be for you. I don't want you going in there and jeapordizing the entire mission with—"

"With my womanly feelings?" she hissed back. She ripped her arm out of his grasp. "Yeah, I know. Leave me be. I can do this."

"I'm not targeting you, Tonks. I just want to know, are you sure you're okay?" She looked back at him. "You're scaring me."

She nodded professionally, her chin tipped up. "Fine." Her body turned to him this time. Her stare was pure flame, and her hair... "I just—I just need to beat them, Shacklebolt. Let me do this." Finally, he nodded. "I'll give you green sparks if it's clear." That was the usual sign, but they all liked it make it clear beforehand. She opened the trunk and, taking a breath, hopped inside. There were a few bangs and shouts from inside that made Kingsley want to launch himself inside before Tonks sent up green sparks. Then, Auror Kress went first, followed by Kingsley and the rest.

What Kingsley found next shocked him. They were cold, dark grey rooms, much like a dungeon, with cells and all. Each cell (and there were about thirty of them) held a child. "Don't be afraid," announced Tonks, her hair turning a strange but knowing mixture of red and white. It meant she felt just as...horrified as he did. "We are Aurors. Your captors are gone. We are here to rescue you." Each of the children shivered and shrieked at the word 'rescue', so Tonks quickly restated. "We are here to save you. They are not coming back and they are not going to harm you again."

"Spread out and open the cells one by one," ordered Kingsley. "Check the children for fatal injuries and treat those first. Anyone who is well enough to Apparate, give them to Kress. Anyone not well enough, stabilize them and go to the fireplace in the front room."

The Aurors nodded and moved, Auror Kress lingering behind to wait for well children.

Kingsley found the first child cowering in the corner of his cell, soaked in blood and shivering. There was no natural light in the cell, for it was bathed in darkness. His eyes were huge and dark brown, staring continuously at some spot behind him. At first, Kingsley thought that the boy was wearing a red shirt until he realized that the 'red shirt' was nothing but layers of blood. The Auror shivered. "Son?" He waved his hands in front of the boy's face. He seemed to be frozen in his spot, his entire body tensed up. Kingsley, even after all his years of experience in the area of search and rescue, felt the need to vomit.

"Hey, can you hear me?" After another lack of response, he took another look at the boy. He was small, seeming to be of Arabic descent, with injuries all over him. He was probably six years old, possibly younger, with a mop of bright pink hair that made him an obvious Metamorphagus. Kingsley moved forward to touch the boy, but he flinched so violently that he thought it would not be a good idea. In order to check his brain function, the Auror flashed a nonverbal Lumos in front of the boy's face. His eyes seemed fine, and he couldn't spot the source of the blood covering him. The boy was dressed in only a small, dark pair of shorts, which were shabby, dirty, and stunk of urine and feces. There were bruises scattered across the child's face, bare chest, back, and arms, and small cuts as well. Evidence of the Fire-Making Curse, or Incendio, was visible all over his hands in the form of dead nerves, blisters, and patches of bright red skin. His legs, particularly his right one, were badly swollen. Kingsley was afraid that they might be broken. "Son, are you... are you hurt?"

No response.

"Son, I can't help you unless you speak to me. Are you hurt? Just let me check—" He tried to touch the boy again, but he jerked away from his touch as if it burned. Kingsley signed, not in exasperation but in total sympathy. His throat clenched. He wanted to help this child, but he was not allowing him to even touch him. Sitting down with the boy, Kingsley attempted a different approach. "Son, would you like some chocolate? I have some in my pocket here. We can get more if you come with me." He supposed he sounded like many of the criminals he'd met, but he said it anyway. He was not trying to hurt this child. The boy looked extremely skinny. Had the so-called 'Rescuers' even fed their victims? His wiry ribs portruded through his small torso, and his stomach was slightly bloated, meaning that he had been starved for a while.

Finally, the child glanced up at Kingsley with his big, beautiful eyes, looking so broken. Even now, he wasn't truly meeting his eyes, but this was a start. "Choc," said the boy. At first, Kingsley didn't even recognize the word because his voice was so unused. His tongue licked his bleeding, chapped lips. "Choc-o-late," he croaked.

Kingsley, ecstatic that he had finally reached the child, pulled the chocolate bar out of his pocket and slid it across the blood-streaked floor to the him. After pulling his burned, trembling hands to his chest in fear, the boy reached out and snatched it from the ground. He began to chew the chocolate without opening it, trying to eat it through the packaging. His teeth, about four of which were missed, chomped vainly on the plastic. Heartbroken, Kinglsey asked himself, How long had this boy been in captivity? "Son, you have to unwrap it."

The boy, puzzled, humiliated, and frightened, weakly tossed the chocolate bar back at Kingsley, and then cowered, covering his head with his arms. Kingsley unwrapped the chocolate bar and handed it back to the boy. The small child refused to take it until the Auror had left it on the ground and was not touching it anymore. Then he snatched it up and tore into it like an animal, eating it faster than anyone Kingsley had ever seen. Kingsley wished he had more on him, but that was all. "Son, can you come with me? It's okay. I'm not going to" —the boy scooted back into his corner, practically gnawing on his fingers for the remnants of the chocolate— "hurt you."

"More," the boy rasped. He looked guilty for asking. How sad it was that someone so perfectly innocent felt so incredibly guilty for even feeling hungry. The child looked guilty for about everything, in fact. The shame was written all over his face. After the word passed over his lips, he spun around, letting out a little whimper at the pain it caused his leg and buried his head into the cold corner where the walls met. His arms dragged at his sides, and one of his hands looked particularly bad, covered in burns.. Kingsley guessed that the child could not even feel it. That must've been why he looked so awkward holding the chocolate. The boy squeezed his body into the corner, exposing his bloodied back, as well as his extremely pronounced spine, ribs, and hips. This child... He was a skeleton.

"Shacklebolt," he heard an Auror hiss from behind him. The boy shuddered and whimpered at the sound. "Shacklebolt, what's taking you so long? We've already got most of the kids. Get that one and let's go."

"He wouldn't let me touch him."

"Just knock him out and bring him. Come on."

Kingsley shook his head. "Go without me." I'm not going to put this boy through anything bad after all he has experienced. I'm not going to break his trust. He turned back to the boy, whose hands were pressed against the walls now; one was limp, and the other weak. The skin of his back was torn and sliced, as if... Kingsley gasped. He had been whipped. "Son" —a flinch from the boy— "I can get you somewhere you can be healed. We can fix your" —Kingsley's throat clenched painfully, cutting off his words— "injuries. You will be safe there." He was just a boy. He was just a baby. How could... How could... Kingsley gritted his teeth. It was things like this... This was why he was an Auror.

The child only focused on one word that he said. "Saff?" he whispered. "S-s—" He interrupted himself with a sound like a cry of pain, and he quickly lowered his head down, out of sight. "Safe."

"Yes," he assured, reaching out his hand, palm up. "Safe."

The boy took a full three minutes to make his next move. He slowly turned around, ducking under Kingsley's gaze. "Safe," he whispered, and then he took Kingsley's hand.

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 _A/N: Thanks for reading! More soon._

 _Challenges used:_

 _Fanfiction Writing Month: December []_

 _Are You Crazy - #140 (lilac)_

 _If You Dare - #60 (natural light)_

 _Character Diversity - #46 (wiry), Kingsley Shacklebolt_


	2. The Sun Is Going Down

_A/N: Warning for violence, trauma, child abuse._

 _Disclaimer: I own nothing._

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Kingsley quickly decided that the boy was not well enough to Apparate. The child was still in a lot of pain from the injuries that scattered across his body; he was particularly worried about the burns, flogging wounds, and his legs. "Can you walk?" he asked, and the boy flinched at the sound of his voice. "Do you need me to carry you?" The Auror did not believe that the child would ever allow him to carry him, but he asked nonetheless.

The boy shook his head, his eyes focused on the ground. He was a living tapestry of near-misses and fights; the evidence was written all over him in the form of cuts, burns, and bruises. His face was covered in layer after layer of newer, dark bruises and older, yellow ones. Kingsley wanted to wash the blood off of his skin, but was afraid that the experience would be painful, even traumatizing, to the child. He wished he had more chocolate on him; then perhaps the boy would trust him. He still couldn't believe that he'd gotten the boy to hold his hand; that was a start.

He led him out of horrid cell and into the hallway, where the boy immediately began to tremble violently, slipping his hand out of Kingsley's and going completely rigid. His eyes stared at the spot across the corridor, and he bowed his head in what seemed to be some sort of submissive stance. The way he moved his small, injured body to the stance was obviously quite painful. He whimpers, but his face then goes slack and void of emotion.

Kingsley followed the boy's absent gaze to see a woman at the end of the corridor who was wearing a sleeveless, dark set of dress robes. Her hair was pulled back into an intricate braid. She smiled, pulled out her wand, and— "Avada Kedavra."

The Auror ducked the spell and protected the child with his body. "Run," he told the boy. "Run!" But the child did not respond. He was stuck in this terrifying stance where he protected himself by shutting down. Kingsley was not used to this sort of reaction in those he saved; usually, they did whatever he told them to or ran of their own accord. "Run!"

The witch launched another curse at Kingsley with the same terrifyingly calm voice: a monotone. It was as if she knew that she was going to win no matter what. The curse hit Kingsley as he was turning around, and he was unprepared as he protected the boy. Thankfully, it mostly missed him because he had been in the process of facing the witch, but it did slice deep into his left arm, making him hunch over a bit in pain. Hot blood began to spill from the wound, but he tried to ignore it. She hadn't hit his wand arm, so he was still of use. He sent a Body-Binding Curse at her but she deflected it, stepping closer to him with every spell she shot at him. He whirled his wand faster and faster, eventually pushing her back so that she grew farther away from the little boy. He took pride in the look of shock in her face as he finally knocked her out with a stunning Spell and sent her spinning into the nearest wall. She hit the stone and tumbled to the ground, unconscious.

Panting, Kingsley let his left arm go limp. He was the only Auror left in the dungeon-like place, which must have been why he had received no backup while fighting the witch. He quickly scanned the room for more Rescuers and found no one. "Son?" he said, turning to the boy. He still had yet to snap out of his stupor. "She's gone. She can't hurt you anymore. Do you understand?" There was no sign of such recognition in the boy's eyes. He continued to stare at the spot where she had stood, seemingly absent from his mind. "Son, can you hear me?" He kneeled before him. He wanted to get the boy to St. Mungo's as soon as possible, but if he touched him... He didn't want to scare him. He would feel so guilty if he was the subject of the boy's next nightmare.

But he had no choice. He heard Tonks from inside the house, calling his name. "Shacklebolt! What's going on down there?" Kingsley glanced toward the sound of her voice and then back at the boy. In a moment of desperation, he scooped up the child in his arms, trying to ignore the shudders that vibrated through the Metamorphmagus's broken body as he did so. He climbed back through the trunk's hole and found Auror Tonks, Auror Kim, and Auror Hernandez waiting for him. The usually bubble gum pink-haired woman (now her hair was red and white, red for her anger and white for her horror) met his eyes, and he knew that she'd seen the children and had similar feelings about the situation. "Is that the last one?" Auror Hernandez asked him. Auror Kim was going around and fixing as many injuries as he could, but many of them were created with weapons that were covered in Dark magic.

Kingsley nodded.

"Unconscious?"

"No, just..." He didn't know how to explain the boy's state of mind. "He just..."

Hernandez just nodded back any response. Then Kingsley saw the child in her arms who seemed to have the same look that was plastered across his boy's face. "Kim, are they all good to go?"

Auror Kim gave her a thumbs up. "Yep."

Hernandez tapped her wristwatch (their usual Portkey) and it glowed a soft blue. "Ready?"

The Aurors all nodded. They grabbed about two kids each (Auror Kress had taken many of them through Side-Along Apparition) and held fast to Hernandez.

"One," she said. Kingsley clutched the child close to him. He hated that he had overstepped the boy's barriers and put him in such a silent, withdrawn state. "Two." To Kingsley's surprise and delight, the boy's weak fingers clenched, tightening around a bit of the Auror's shirt, and the Metamorphmagus buried his face into the front of his robes. They arrived in St. Mungo's emergency ward with a crack, and immediately the lime-green robes surged forth, plucking children from their arms and waving their wands before their eyes to check for brain function. An bald Asian woman with tattoos swirling over her skull moved to take the boy from Kingsley's arms, and he immediately resisted, his arms curling protectively around him. "Sir," said the Healer, but Kingsley had already realized his unconscious actions and had released his grip on the boy. However, when she tried to pull the boy away, they discovered that the Metamorphagus had wound himself so tightly in Kingsley's shirt that it was difficult to remove him. With a flick of her wand, she sent the boy into a deep sleep, and his desperate clutch in the Auror's robes relaxed, his small, broken body going limp. As the Healer took him away, Kingsley felt a pang of emotion hit him directly in the center of his chest. As another Healer began to tend to the deep cut in his arm, he nodded in the direction of the Healer and the boy who he had saved, where many of the children were being taken. "Where are they bringing them?" he asked.

His Healer, a man with dark skin and a halo of blonde hair, frowned. "Most of them are going to Healing Rooms. Did you see those injuries?"

Kingsley swallowed hard. "Are any of them—are any of them fatal?"

He shrugged. "I didn't get" —Kingsley winced as the paste he spread over the wound stung— "a good look at most of them, but the ones I saw looked like they'd make it. It's really just the blood loss that they're worried about, or some unknown curses that those madmen use, yeah? And the floggings? Did you see their backs? That was no ordinary whip. It's a lot of panic about scarring and recovery, really. The faster that we get them to a Healing Room, the better."

He nodded as the man spoke, glad for the distraction. He didn't want to think about the possibility of the boy dying. He'd only known him for a day, but already he felt— "Shacklebolt!" It was Tonks. Her hair was mostly back to normal now, which reassured him.

But the expression on her face did cause him to leap up and scan her for an answer, also causing the Healer to protest, "Sir, if you would just let me—"

"Yes?" As he awaited his coworker's answer, the blonde Healer bandaged his arm, wrapping cloth around it with a wave of his wand and conjuring up a sling for him.

"It's the kids," she said, and her hair turned a shade lighter as she spoke. "You've gotta see this."

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 _Challenges used:_

 _Fanfiction Writing Month: December [1544]_


	3. You'll Be Alright

_A/N: Warning for trauma, past child abuse._

 _Disclaimer: I own nothing._

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As they walked briskly towards the double doors, Kingsley tried to probe her for answers, asking, "Are they okay? Did those people do—"

"Shut up," she said, her anger clear. Although it might have seemed disrespectful to an outsider, her sharp tone told the Auror that at least part of the Tonks he knew was here. "You'll see."

They entered the first room, where saw one of the children with fewer injuries: a girl who looked around ten years old with her head shaved entirely, lying flat on her stomach on the hospital bed. The worst wound he could spot on her was a collection of large welts and bruises lining the back of her legs starting at her upper thighs and going all the way down to her ankles. "Merlin," Kingsley said, but Tonks shook her head.

"That's not it," she told him. "Just wait."

As the Healer tended to the little girl's legs, Tonks took Kingsley's hand and led him forward. "Hey," she said, and the girl flinched. "Sweetheart?" The child is shivering. "Can you tell me your name?"

The girl pushes herself to a sitting position. "N-n-nam," she responded, her eyes focused on Tonks' shoes. "N-nam. Name?"

"Yes, sweetheart. Your name."

She shook her head, displaying an ugly bruise on one side of her face. "N-nam, nam. N-no. N-no name." Her eyes flitted to Kingsley's feet as well. "No name," she said, this time more firmly. "Not—n-no. No name." She pressed her shaking hands behind her back and stood, head bowed, as if she'd done it many times before. Disturbed, Kingsley was reminded of a similar position that his boy had fallen into. "N-nam. N-num. N-numbah. Num-mbah." It took the Auror a few moments to understand what she was saying. _Numbah. Number._ She stuttered and stumbled through it, but she finally said it, her fingers still clasped behind her back. "T-two-nine." 29. When she said the two numbers, Kingsley shivered. He didn't think she even knew what she was talking about; she said the words as if they were one.

"Can you count for me?" The Healer was back, pressing a goblet of potion to the girl's lips.

The little girl blinked. "C-con-cou-count. C-coun. Count. C-coun-count?"

"Yes, love. Count."

Usually, when they gave patients Sleeping Draughts, they would have them try to count to a hundred, because then they would fall asleep somewhere along the way. When the girl started to tremble violently at the idea of counting, the Healer began to reassure her, touching her hand, and everything escalated very quickly. The girl shut down right there, going completely limp with her eyes wide open. Tonks led Kingsley out of the room and into the next. "Tonks," he began. "I've seen enough. I don't want to—"

The short-haired Auror ignored him. "Healer Lincoln?" she called out, stopping a tall, lanky woman with a shock of white hair.

"Auror Tonks," the woman acknowledged. "I'm afraid the hospital is a bit rushed at the moment, and I don't have time to—"

"Tell him," she interrupted, ignoring Healer Lincoln's higher position like she did to Kingsley most days. "Tell him about the kids."

She sighed. "Tonks, I don't—"

"Tell. Him."

She turned to him with an expression that Kingsley could not read. "The kids," she began, under Tonks' watchful eye. "They've been in captivity for a long time."

"I know that—"

She glared at him. He stopped speaking. "Most of them were taken as infants away from their families. They have no idea what it's like to have a mother or a father or a home; this is all they know. None of them can read, none of them know their names, none of them can even count to ten. Most of them have an extremely limited vocabulary: yes and no, pain or no pain, hungry, words like that. Their eyes are underdeveloped because they've been underexposed to light their entire lives, and their teeth... It looks like they were allowed to brush them, but some of them... They don't know how to function properly. They expect punishment for saying more than one-word answers, they expect to pay for the smallest of things...Auror Shacklebolt, it's bad."

Kingsley had a powerful feeling in his core now; it felt like it was burning him from inside out. "What did those bastards do to them?" he growled.

Tonks' hand was gripping his shoulder. "Come on," she said. "Let's go see what we can do to help."

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 _Challenges used:_

 _Fanfiction Writing Month: December [750]_


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